


An End to the In-Between Years

by frausorge



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, popoffacork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-07
Updated: 2009-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-03 08:52:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/pseuds/frausorge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard and Bob fucked once, back before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An End to the In-Between Years

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lovelypoet in the 2009 Bandom Summer Story Swap (popoffacork). Many thanks to clumsygyrl for awesome beta!
> 
> Warning: This story addresses the topic of meaningful consent.

Gerard and Bob fucked once, back before. Well, Bob fucked Gerard. He remembered it being really good. Gerard was flushed, radiating heat, and spread his legs easily when he fell back onto the motel bed. He threw his head back and groaned at every thrust, and Bob kind of lost it, pounding in ruthlessly while Gerard shuddered and moaned and writhed underneath him. Bob came with a shout and what felt like the force of an avalanche, buried deep in Gerard's body.

Gerard was completely wasted at the time.  
"Listen, Bob," Gerard said. His eyes looked hollow and his hair was rank, but his hand was steady on Bob's sleeve. "I wanted to tell you, I'm really glad you said yes. I think it's awesome that you're with us now."

Gerard's gaze was dark and earnest. "Well. Me too," Bob said.

"And you should know that it wasn't because - I mean, when the guys came and said they wanted to call you, to ask you, I didn't even think about anything, you know. Personal. Like, that didn't influence the decision at all."

"Right," Bob said, "yeah." He glanced down at Gerard's faded Madonna shirt so he could look away from Gerard's round, forgiving face. "I, uh. That's cool of you."

Gerard ducked his head and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Anyway, yeah, I just wanted you to know that. You want a smoke? I was gonna head outside for a little bit."

"Nah, thanks. I'm good," Bob said.

Gerard scratched at his scalp again and said, "All right, well, see you in there."

Bob nodded. Gerard went to the door, his hips swinging to the left as he pitched his weight against the pneumatic hinge. The door fell heavily shut behind him, and Bob closed his eyes and shook his head hard.  
It wasn't hard to join the band, as it turned out, at least not in the way Bob had been worried about. It was a hell of a lot of work, but he could handle plenty of work. What mattered was that the guys were talking to him, not closed off, and none of them looked back at the drum set like they were looking for a different face. The band had been cracked wide open, but that gap had made room for him. They were going to get fused back together, and Bob was going to be right in the middle.

Sometimes on movie nights, when he was squashed in the center of the couch between Mikey's bony elbow and the steady tempting warmth of Gerard's side, Bob didn't feel as much like celebrating that fact. But he had promised himself to keep his hands off Gerard, as a condition of accepting the group's offer, and he meant it. So he shifted his weight toward Mikey and took the popcorn bowl from Gerard without brushing Gerard's fingers.  
In the morning Bob had woken up to Gerard puking in the bathroom, sounding like all his guts were about to come up. When Bob came in Gerard waved him off without lifting his head. Bob's own head had been pounding pretty badly, so he drank two glasses of water from the bathroom sink, refilled the glass again, and set it down on the floor within Gerard's reach. Then he stumbled back into the room to get dressed and shove his wallet and phone and everything back into his pockets.

There were no sounds coming from the bathroom anymore. Bob peered in and saw Gerard just sitting there with his forehead pressed to the rim of the toilet bowl. He backed away without speaking, but in the gray daylight of the room he didn't feel right about just leaving, either. He drifted to the window and looked out at the parking lot for a minute. On his way back he started picking up the clothes strewn around the room and crammed them into Gerard's already overflowing duffel bag as best he could, pressing the heel of his palm into his temple whenever his head got really bad.

Eventually Ray knocked on the door and hauled Gerard off to the My Chem van. He didn't say anything about Bob being there, just draped Gerard's arm over his shoulder and said "Thanks, dude," with a wry grin when Bob handed him Gerard's packed bag. Bob went and found Quinn and Jepha collecting empties to piss in, and nobody said anything about it at all.  
Ray and Frank and Mikey all took turns rooming with Gerard while he was getting through the remnants of the withdrawal. Bob was still trying to get his bearings, but he noticed after a while that they weren't putting him in the rotation. He didn't know which of them they were trying to spare, him or Gerard, but he figured it was just as well regardless, so he didn't bring it up.  
Gerard not only looked better nowadays, he sounded better, too. Gerard had always put on a good show, even before, but listening to Gerard's voice on the monitors, Bob thought if he was still running sound he wouldn't have to do nearly as much to make Gerard sound his best. Of course, that was no longer his job. Bob ran his sticks over every drum in the kit once more, just because they were his and he could, and closed his eyes while the cymbal was ringing out to let the thrill of it wash over him. That seriously just didn't get old. No matter what awkwardness he'd let them in for, he couldn't regret having accepted it. So really, things were better all around.  
"Hey," Ray said behind him. Bob startled and almost knocked over his coffee. "Whoa, easy, dude."

"Yeah, thanks," Bob said. He turned his head deliberately away from the table where the other guys were sitting and looked at Ray. "What's up?"

"They have the right kind of peanut butter," Ray said with no small satisfaction, sitting down next to Bob on the bench. He looked over at the other table himself, flicked his gaze once to Bob's face, and then busied himself about his sandwich.

"Heathen," Bob said, because the peanut butter was totally the wrong kind here and all right-minded people should have known that. Ray made a squawking offended sound around his bite of bread and socked Bob in the chest after swallowing. Bob smacked Ray's fist away and got up to go refill both of their cups.  
Ray had probably known why Bob was in Gerard's room that time, Bob thought. But Ray had still voted to bring Bob into the band, and he wasn't saying anything more now than he had then, so Bob didn't say anything either.  
Frank invited Bob to play a game of hacky in the parking lot, which Bob was perfectly happy to do. He was not happy to be filmed doing it, however. "Put - that - motherfucker - _down_," he said, grabbing for the camera in Frank's hands. Frank couldn't get out of the grip Bob had on his ankle, but he kept twisting and turning so Bob couldn't get at the camera, cackling the whole time.

"It's for history!" Frank panted out. "Posterity! Future generations need to be able to witness your hacky prowess!"

"If you don't turn that shit off, there won't _be_ any future generations in your family." Bob pinned Frank's ankle under his knee and, with both hands free, managed to knock the camera loose. Frank lay back and dissolved in giggles.

"All right, it's off. Now will you knock me up?" he said. Bob snorted.

As he was getting to his feet, he saw Gerard standing in the doorway of the bus, watching them with an expression he could only call fond. Frank and Gerard were close, Bob knew. It made sense.

Frank grabbed the camera and raced back to the bus, pushing past Gerard, who moved down the steps to make way. "You coming?" Gerard called to Bob, still with that little smile. He was wearing an enormous pair of sunglasses, his hair was sticking out in clumps, and his pale knee was showing through the rip in his jeans.

Bob dusted his palms off on his own jeans. "Yeah," he said. Gerard kept on standing there, waiting, until Bob arrived at the foot of the steps. Then he put out a hand and touched Bob's elbow.

"Want some coffee?" he said. "Mikey just made a new pot."

Bob considered for a moment, weighing the advantages of caffeine against the results of Mikey's brewing. "Okay," he said. Gerard's smile widened.

"Come on, then, before he drinks it all himself." He reached out again and nudged the back of Bob's shoulder. Bob climbed onto the bus thinking _coffee, coffee,_ and did not look back at Gerard behind him.  
Mikey put on a movie in the dressing room after sound check, and Bob tried to find the least lumpy spot on the lumpy couch to watch with him. Technically Mikey was not exactly watching himself, as he was spending more time looking at the screen on his Sidekick than the one on the TV, but he was being quiet, anyway, and that was all Bob needed right then.

Gerard came in partway through and said, "Hey, guys."

"Hey Gee," Mikey said. Bob nodded.

"What are you watching?"

Mikey waved one hand sideways. "_Alien_," Bob said.

"Oh yeah," Gerard said, peering at the TV. "Cool."

He sat down in the free spot on the couch, not quite next to Bob but near him, and went on shifting around a little longer, his toes brushing Bob's thigh as he curled his legs up underneath him. Bob felt himself start to tense. Then Gerard slumped into stillness, however, and a companionable silence formed in the room underneath the noises of the soundtrack.

Mikey looked over across Gerard at Bob once, but when Bob glanced back Mikey just smiled and turned back to the TV. There were no other interruptions till the end of the movie. It actually turned out to be the most restful afternoon Bob had had in a while.  
They were playing really well together now. Bob could feel how solid their sets were getting, the energy ramping up, the kids out in front getting into it bigtime, and though he wouldn't have said it out loud, his own rhythms were right there at the core of it all. Ray sent him fiendish grins when their eyes met, Mikey shook the sweat off his head in time with Bob's beats, and Frank, the little jerk, seemed magnetically drawn to climbing up on Bob's riser no matter how many times Bob yelled at him about it afterwards. And Gerard would turn his back on the crowd, one knee bouncing and the mic held up high above his head, and give Bob smiles of such sheer joy that Bob couldn't do anything but return them in kind. He just couldn't help himself. Anyway, out there onstage, with the whole kit between them, it was totally safe.  
The door to the bunks never quite closed all the way, and as Bob woke up he could hear Gerard's voice coming from up front, hushed but energetic, interspersed with quieter, indistinct answers that Bob eventually identified as Ray.

"...feel like it's just making it weird now," Gerard said, and then, "I know you were, but really, I can handle it." Another murmur from Ray. "Yeah, if you get a chance. Or I will if I catch them first. Thanks."

Then a piercing beep from the microwave halted the conversation, and when Ray and Gerard started talking again they were just going over the week's schedule. When it became clear that nothing more illuminating was going to come up, Bob let out a deep breath and rolled out of his bunk to head into the bathroom.  
The first time Bob did get assigned to room with Gerard, he had to work to tamp down the twitchy, hot feeling in his chest. Gerard smiled at him sleepily.

"I'm gonna turn in now, but you can stay up if you want, okay?" Gerard said. "I don't mind."

Bob turned the pages of a magazine by the light of the reading lamp for another half hour or so, glancing over from time to time to see Gerard's peaceful face on the other bed's pillow, the healthy tint in his skin and his hair a few shades cleaner than it ever used to be. Then Bob switched the lamp off and turned over to face the window.

Gerard was still fast asleep when Bob woke up, one arm flung out to the side with the covers slipping off his shoulder. Bob got up, dived into the shower, and then got himself out of there, down to breakfast and afterwards to the bus, where there were distractions and other people and lights and noise everywhere.  
The thing was, Gerard had never brought it up again. Until his little welcome speech, anyway. Bob could have said something himself, of course, but Gerard had been spending more and more time smashed or high or both, more than most other guys on that tour, more than he'd ever done before. It would have been one thing to say _hey, do you want to hook up again sometime,_ but it was quite another to have to preface that with _hey, do you remember that we hooked up before?_ The longer things went on, the less Bob felt lucky that he'd run into Gerard loose-limbed and laughing at that post-show party, and the more he started to worry that he'd really fucked up.  
The next time he got Gerard as a roommate, Bob stayed out late. First he went out to Denny's with everyone, and then he hung out in Frank and Mikey's room as long as he could after, till Mikey finally kicked him out with an eyeroll and Bob had to make his way to the room assigned to him. He left the lights off and tried to be as quiet as possible, but when he sat down on the edge of the mattress to take his shoes off, he heard Gerard roll over in the other bed and say, "Bob?"

"Yeah," Bob said.

"Oh hey -" Gerard said, and then fell silent.

"Yeah?" Bob said after a moment.

"Um, mm," Gerard said, his breaths already slowing again.

Bob finished undressing and slid under the covers, still listening.

In the morning he booked it out of the room again before Gerard could wake up. And he managed to do the same thing the next couple of times as well. It was becoming a fairly good system for him. It did mean putting himself at risk of Frank attacks for extended periods before noon, but even those could be counted as effective distractions, so on the whole Bob figured it was worth it.  
"I call Bob," Gerard said when Worm came back from the reception desk. Worm shrugged and flipped him one of the room key envelopes. Bob stopped still, resettling his bag on his shoulder, but Gerard grabbed him by the wrist and said, "Come on, let's head upstairs." Bob sighed and went.

Gerard kept a hold of his wrist all the way up in the elevator and down the hall, till they had wrestled the room door open and dropped their bags onthe floor inside. Then Gerard tugged Bob over to sit on one of the beds and settled down opposite him on the other one.

"What?" Bob said when Gerard just kept looking at him.

"I want to know why you're avoiding me," Gerard said.

"We see each other all the time," Bob said. "Every day."

"Oh, don't - come on, Bob, don't do that."

Bob felt his fingers clench and made himself keep them down at his sides. Gerard waited, and waited. "Okay, look, I feel like an asshole!" Bob burst out. "You should really be avoiding _me_."

"What? Why?"

Bob shook his head.

"Hey," Gerard said. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

The carpet under their feet was a pebbly, tawny gray, like a dirty beach. Bob took a breath, lifted his head, and looked Gerard in the eye. "When we fucked, before," he said clearly, and waited until Gerard nodded. "You were pretty out of it, and I basically took advantage of you. It was a fucking shitty thing to do, and I'm sorry, and I'm not going to let it happen again."

Gerard sat back and ran both hands through his hair. "I do remember that night, you know," he said. "Not everything, maybe, 'cause yeah, I was starting to get pretty bad around that time, but most of it. For instance, I remember we were both drinking at that party."

"So?" Bob said.

"So, it's not like you were preying on me or whatever in cold blood. You were kind of trashed yourself."

"I don't think that makes it better," Bob said.

"Well, either way," Gerard said. "I also don't remember doing anything I didn't want to."

"That's not the point. When someone's out of it like that, they're not in any state to even decide what they want. Doing shit with you anyway was just creepy."

"I knew what I wanted," Gerard insisted. "And you know what would be really creepy?" He set his palms on the edge of the mattress and leaned forward. "It would be creepy if you only wanted me when I was shitfaced out of my mind and barely with it, and you weren't interested anymore now that I'm clean and sober and know what's going on. Are you telling me that's how it is?"

"No!" Bob said, and then he thought about what he'd just said. "I mean - no, of course not, but -"

"So you do still want me now."

Bob swallowed. Gerard raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Bob said. "Yeah, I do. I swore to myself when you guys brought me in that I wouldn't let it affect the band, and fuck knows I've been trying to shape up and make myself leave you alone, but I can't stop thinking about you. Happy now?"

Gerard broke into a brilliant smile. "Yeah," he said.

Bob sat and stared. "The hell?" he said. "What do you mean, 'yeah'?"

"I mean," Gerard said, "in case you hadn't noticed, I can't stop thinking about you either. For a while now."

"For a while," Bob said, testing the statement out. "But not back then."

Gerard pressed his lips together. "I was always interested in you. I thought you were fucking hot the day we met. But I didn't care about anything then as much I cared about alcohol."

"Oh," Bob said.

"I was really psyched that night, that you wanted me," Gerard went on. "And then the next day I was really ashamed that you found me hurling because I drank too much. And I thought that would put you off me for good, and I decided to drink even more to forget about the whole thing. Because I'm an alcoholic. Which, don't kid yourself, I still am."

"But you've gotten better," Bob said. "You've been working so hard at it."

Gerard nodded. "I'm working really hard, and I'm better than I was."

Bob found himself nodding too.

Gerard's fingers were twisting the blanket on either side of him into small peaks. Bob glanced up from them to Gerard's shoulders, his chest, the line of his throat, his dark, shining eyes.

"But, so," Bob said. "You said... now..."

Gerard looked back at Bob steadily. His mouth bloomed into a smile.

Bob shoved forward across the space between the beds and kissed him. Gerard lifted his hands to Bob's face and kissed back.

Gerard pulled Bob down on top of him and wrapped his legs around Bob's waist. Bob rolled to get them farther into the center of the bed and landed on top of Gerard again, both of them already yanking off clothes. Gerard's body moved just as frantically under his as Bob remembered, loose and uncontrolled, and when Bob pushed into him Gerard tossed his head back and let the moans spill out so wildly that a shudder ran down Bob's spine.

But the smile was still there in every curve of Gerard's lips, and he kept his eyes open looking back at Bob the whole time. Bob bent down to kiss Gerard's open mouth again and again, and the hot welcoming slide of Gerard's tongue, and Gerard whispered, "hey, you, hey," and pulled him down to kiss him again. Then at last Bob stopped worrying and gave himself up to the rush.


End file.
